


Life Worn

by alohdark



Category: Daredevil (Comics), Marvel (Comics), Punisher (Comics)
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-26
Updated: 2017-08-26
Packaged: 2018-12-20 00:56:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11909868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alohdark/pseuds/alohdark
Summary: Frank looked at his hands. For once they weren’t bleeding or bruised. No lingering cuts or scraps. They were just hands.





	Life Worn

**Author's Note:**

> I just wanted to write something fluffy with old!Frank and old!Matt. So this vague thing was born. Unbeta'd as per my usual. Enjoy!

Frank looked at his hands. For once they weren’t bleeding or bruised. No lingering cuts or scraps. They were just hands. Work roughened and weather beaten but they looked like they could be the hands of any average blue collar man of his advancing age.

They hadn’t looked that way in a long time.

Frank looked up at the man responsible for that. Matthew Michael Murdock. His red hair, slowly fading into a rose tinted blond, gleamed in the light streaming in through the window. His smile was just as wide and filled with love even as the laugh lines around his eyes and dimples grew deeper and longer. There were no fading bruises blotching his pale skin.

Frank felt his lips quirk up into a smile. They were getting old. They were growing old, and they were still alive for it to actually happen. The odds of that happening, Frank had thought, were too slim to even bother calculating. He’d always assumed either one, or both, of them would lose their lives to their vigilante activities. He’d always assumed he’d end up putting a bullet in his own brain before he gave up his guns.

But here he was.

The man across from him reached out across the table, gently intertwining their fingers together and squeezing just slightly. Frank looked down again at his hands, their hands. They were scarred and lined and the bones inside were roughly healed but they were whole and every mark was just a sign of the life they had lived and survived.

A sign of the life that had destroyed them but had also made them who they were and brought them together.

Frank tenderly turned his wrist so his finger tips grazed against the pulse in Matt’s wrists. It was just as strong as the first time Frank had crashed his fist into his face and broke his nose. Just as strong as the first time Matt had thrown his stupid billy club at Frank’s hand to stop him from firing.

They had come a long way, the two of them. Apart and together.

But here they were. Alive. And old. And all their aches and pains were from a life time of hard use and abuse and not from a night out gone wrong. And somehow, some way, they hadn’t just survived, but they had found themselves together.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Matt asked, his lips holding that smile that Frank loved to kiss.

He ran his thumb across the pulse in Matt’s wrist before slowly pulling away and getting out of his seat. He walked around their small kitchen table and gently ran his fingers down the line of Matt’s jaw. He leaned forward and chastely kissed the smile on the other man’s lips. He pulled back, slowly tracing the laugh lines on the face of the man he loves with his finger tips.

His hands were soft, now. Soft and whole and warm with life. So he felt it as Matt turned his head and pressed a feather light kiss to his palm. Felt it as Matt rested the weight of his skull in his hands. Felt the trust and love bleeding into him through his palms.

Frank leaned down again as he cradled Matt’s head in his hands. He tried to put everything he was thinking, feeling, seeing, into the press of their lips. He wasn’t worried if Matt understood or not. They had the rest of their lives for him to get it right.


End file.
